


Worth the Wait

by Scruggzi



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Enjoy my lovelies!, F/M, Just straight up shagnanigans there is nothing else here, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 11:23:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15314424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scruggzi/pseuds/Scruggzi
Summary: It has been two weeks since Phryne and Jack have last seen each other and the tension is ready to boil over...





	Worth the Wait

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to leafingbookstea for betaing my smut **tackle hugs in your general direction**

It had been two whole weeks since they had last seen each other in the flesh. A succession of night shifts and a delicate problem involving a serial adulterer had conspired to keep them focused on their professional commitments and the experience had been excruciating for both parties. Having finally caught the wretched philanderer in the act, Phryne had invited Jack round to supper with the intention of celebrating the end of his night work.

They hadn't even made it through dinner.

Phryne emerged from behind her dressing screen, diaphragm firmly in place, wearing nothing but a gauzy film of black lace and a predatory smile. Jack was already naked to the waist, shoes and socks tucked under the chaise, shirt and waistcoat piled on top of it. He met her smile without flinching and matched it, the very air between them inflamed and crackling with want.

Jack reached for her as she approached, one hand cupping the back of her head as he drew her close, his tongue demanding, his deft fingers rucking up the shear lace and dispensing with it mere seconds after she had put it on. This was not a night for temptation or titillation; only honest, unvarnished need, thumping through their veins in frantic, intoxicating pulses to the tune of their racing heartbeats.

Phryne lost no time in dispensing with Jack's trousers and underwear; casting them aside so she could get her greedy hands on his already half hard cock. His deep moan of pleasure was drowned in fierce kisses as he grew hot and hard in her hand. She backed him towards the bed, pulling back to sink to her knees and take him in her mouth. This time there was nothing to stifle the sound of pure, heady ecstasy that rumbled up like rolling thunder from Jack's chest. The sight of her like this; on her knees, red lips tight around his cock, her eyes closed as she savoured the taste and weight of him on her tongue, it was beyond erotic, like some debauched and fevered dream; an apparition of wicked delight.

Phryne felt the light pressure of Jack's hand in her hair, his fingers stoking the base of her neck, unerringly finding the spot there that made her whimper – although whether by instinct or design she couldn't say. The vibration along his cock as she moaned her appreciation made his thighs shake. He leant his weight against the bed the better to let her work and she surged forwards, hands caressing his thighs, his arse, the thick length of his shaft as she sucked him hard and fast, greedy for the taste of him. She couldn't get enough of the flavour of his skin, the texture so soft yet solid as steel against her tongue. Her hand drifted from his thigh to the perfect spot between her legs, speeding her on as her fingers slipped and slid against her swollen sex.

“Fuck, fuck, please god don't stop,” he ground out, a rough gasp through gritted teeth.

That was not something he would have ever dreamed of asking when she first took him to bed. Her pleasure was too important to him to even consider letting her finish him first. Phryne had pointed out – quite reasonably and rather charmed by his selflessness – that there were many ways to bring her pleasure that did not require his cock and that if she wanted to she was more than able to withdraw in good time. Having no reasonable rebuttal, and having adjusted himself to the realisation that Phryne genuinely enjoyed pleasuring him this way, he had begun, shyly, to request her mouth. She had given him the freedom to abandon himself to pleasure, secure in the knowledge that he could and would return the favour as many times as she wanted him to. It was a precious and beautiful decadence and he treasured it.

Phryne looked up at him through her lashes, smiling around his cock as she began a swift circular motion around the head with her tongue. She brought her wet hand up from between her legs to take up a fast, hard rhythm along his shaft. She watched in fascinated delight as his beloved face contorted in an agony of indescribable pleasure, his eyes shut, his mouth open, not even trying to contain his heavy moans as her tongue continued to swirl around him.

He was close, his legs shaking and no longer able to support him, all his weight against the bed. He forced his eyes open as his climax hit, overwhelming body and brain with fire and glory. Phryne, smirking, pulled back, letting the white ropes of his release hit her face and drip down to adorn her naked breasts.

“Jesus Christ, Phryne,” he whispered, eyes wide as he slid gracelessly to the floor kneeling before her in supplication, pushing her back till she was led beneath him. He kissed the slick remnants of his pleasure from her lips, her jaw, licking and sucking it from the solid jut of her nipples, sticky fingers tracing lines along her belly down to her dripping cunt. Usually Jack liked to tease, to draw out Phryne’s pleasure, to hear her beg, but tonight he was a man on a mission. Two fingers slid easily inside her, his tongue hard and relentless against the swollen nub of her clitoris. She was already close, her hips thrusting against his fingers, breath coming in obscene little gasps peppered with the sound of his name.

Of all the delights she had found in making love to Jack Robinson, Phryne thought that his face as he put his mouth on her might just be her favourite; his expression, so serene and beautiful even in the midst of his passion. He loved to bring her pleasure this way, loved the taste and the feel and the intimacy of it. He loved the way she would abandon the power and detachment of the seductress and allowed herself to just be Phryne, to be loved.

Her fingers in his hair were taught and tangled, the tiny bite of pain transmuted into pleasure by his sex-saturated brain. He exchanged the position of his tongue and fingers, two thumbs setting up a rapid rhythm either side of her clitoris, tongue buried inside her as far as he could reach, matching the speed and pace of her hips as her gasps became a series of loud _fuck, fuck, FUCKS,_ her whole body shaking in glorious release.

He didn’t think he would ever fail to be awed by the sight of Phryne’s pleasure. It was a raw and perfect thing, beauty and freedom at its most artless and profound. He had already come so hard his legs felt like wet paper and by rights he shouldn’t be ready for her again, but he was. She met his eyes, dazed but still hungry and pulled him up to kiss her fluids from his face.

The combined the taste of salt sweat and sex, the remains of his own release and the hunger that still drove them had him fully aroused again and desperate. He flipped her over, pulling her up into her knees, kneeling behind her to push himself all the way into her glorious wet cunt; his hands on her hips slipping in the mix of sweat and arousal that clung to them both like a second skin.

They cried out together as he began to fuck her in earnest; hard, fast and raw, with no finesse and no control. Phryne was meeting him thrust for thrust, clenching the walls of her sex around his pounding cock, wanting to feel every part of him hard and deep and hers.

The rough woollen fibres of the carpet were leaving red marks on her arms and knees. She didn’t care. There was nothing but all encompassing, visceral pleasure boring down into the core and marrow of her, tearing her throat with hoarse cries as she blinked the sweat from her eyes. She tumbled into release quite literally, slumping forward to press her face into the carpet when her arms would no longer support her. Jack’s hips stuttered against the flesh of her backside as the contraction of her inner muscles ripped a second climax from him; leaving him panting, blinded and screaming her name.

He slumped sideways, toppling like a tree and crawled up to lie beside her, nuzzling into her neck as she held his hand close to her pounding heart. Glancing up towards the towering cliff of the bed above them and deciding it was far too great a height to scale in their present state, Jack extracted his fingers long enough to pull a blanket down on top of them. Phryne smiled in approval, rolling over to rest her head against the damp skin of his chest, pressing little kisses to his shoulder.

“Remind me never to complain about your night shifts again, Inspector,” she slurred dreamily, fingers idly stroking his hip beneath the soft fur of the blanket.

“Worth the wait was it?” he smirked, wondering idly if his legs would ever work again.

Phryne met his eyes with a soft, loving expression that never failed to melt his heart.

“Always,” she whispered, as she pressed her lips to his.


End file.
